


Awakening

by Nalyra



Series: A blackish red hue [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Husbands, Original Character Death(s), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murder Husbands in Europe, you may have guessed. :)</p><p>>> I'm not going to tag --everything--.<br/>But I have adapted the tags a bit because they did not reflect the story and the next part anymore.<br/>Also continued smut because whats the point after starting it? ;)</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of [Baptism](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561175)

In a way, and after all, it makes sense.  
Will stands in the middle of the kitchen in the dead of the night, just a few hours past his little tryst with the overly confident sailor/hitman/wannabe.

Part of him wonders at the energy he has and he smiles. Well, he let Hannibal do most of the work this time. Still, by all means and expectations he should be sleeping comatously now. Instead he stands in the freezing kitchen with just a pair of flimsy pajama bottoms and contemplates .... Yes, what exactly does he contemplate? He idly pushes at the icy fingers on the floor with his right toe, cocking his head in consideration and then sinks into a crouch and lifts the head up with his left hand.

Rigor mortis has set in, and it's hard work to actually look at the face requiring more than a little head craning. The look on the mans face is still disbelieving and spooked, but now paired with the remote elation and relaxation of death, the eyes already milky. It's strangely beautiful and Will feels the phantom life thunder beneath his palm, given so short sightedly in a bid for money. Will sighs and looks out the living room at the green fields, seemingly dark grey now and at the single tree there.

____________________

Hannibal comes around the house in the wee morning hours, a sliver of sun just visible at the horizon and brings him a cup of coffee. 

"No milk this time?"

Hannibal smiles at him and steps past him, just quickly inhaling at the hair in his neck, making Will shiver in his thick jacket and too big work boots found somewhere in the little storage under the stairs. 

"It's beautiful. And fitting. I am honored, Will."

Will hides his smile and blush behind the cup. A few weeks ago his reaction to praise would be deliberate rejection, a few years ago exhausted denial and at the very beginning it would have been terrified elation. Now, here, there is gratified pride.   
He sees, a dreamlike, freeing state. 

"You didn't have enough coins...."

Hannibal chuckles. 

"Well, I had hoped our pursuer would employ a bit more common sense and therefore grant us a bit more time here, but, considering the outcome, I am glad he did not."

He cocks his head considering.

"Also, I would think the substitute should be obvious to even their limited understanding of the matter and therefore very suitable."

Hannibal turns to him.

"I have cleaned the kitchen and packed our belongings. The cab will arrive in approximately an hour. You will have to take another shower, I have layed out clothes for you. I hope you are amendable to another boat trip?"

Will rolls his shoulders, taking a sip of the coffee. He turns to Hannibal, the look on his face serene in the early morning light.

"Always."

He turns and walks back to the house without a backwards glance at the man hung from the high branches, 30 little origami butterflies made of bills attached to his corpse. 

___________________

 

As it turns out, they take the train to London first. Hannibal buys some makeup for the rather visible scars on Wills face at a drug store and ignores the skunk eye Will gives him quite efficiently. They take another cab to the port of Harwich again after more than 5 hours and Will tries to curb his crankiness and addresses Hannibal very quietly, lest the driver understands. 

"When you said boat, I didn't expect a ferry."

"It is a more efficient way to cross to Europes mainland. After that sailor reported back to Alana, the cargo ships will be watched closely, as will be any rented boats. The ferrys are full of people, hard to track, almost impossible to shut down and there is room to maneuver if the need arises. I have considered taking the train to France, but our options on the train would have been more limited."

Will has to concede that point with a sigh.

"At least I will be able to smell the salt in the air...."

Hannibal regards him with a small smirk. It is weird. They fell back into an easy companionship leaving the cottage, reminiscent of years long passed, and although the game has changed, there has been no need for verbal confirmation of what happened, both understanding the state of mind of the other. Will drops his gaze to Hannibals lips and it's enough to know that he -could- if he wanted to, for now. He can tell he will want to, though.

"We will cross overnight?"

"Yes, it will last approximately 14 hours. We will get ourselves another little cabin, hopefully with better food."

Will snorts. It's true, by the end of their 14 day long cargo ship trip even he was 'fed' up with the food there, he cannot possible imagine Hannibals pain regarding this precise predicament.

"When will we leave port?"

"Unfortunately we will have another 10 hours because the ferry leaves for Hook of Holland just short of midnight."

Hannibal turns towards him and stops his protest with a lewd smile.

"I have got us a room at the Pier Hotel."

Will feels a prickle at the base of his spine and suddenly he is not quite so tired anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

It really is a no brainer as soon as the door closes.   
Will pushes Hannibal back at the door, closing in, nipping slightly at his lips, taking the suitcase from his hand and just dropping it on the floor, joining his own.  
He runs his hand up Hannibals lapels, closing at his collar, pulling him in, feeling Hannibals hands come up to cup his ass, making him groan and then he is devouring Hannibals mouth, sucking on his tongue, grinding almost desperately.   
Hannibal lets him control the kiss but starts to knead his ass, which leads to Will rutting agains him almost mindlessly. Hannibal wrenches his mouth from him, wild eyed.

"Allow me."

Hannibal drops to the floor in front of the door, right there, and Wills brain short circuits. He braces himself on the door, unbelieving, stuttering gasps already falling from his lips when there is hot suction at the front of his pants. He throws his head back, groaning, and feels Hannibal free his erection, pushing his pants over his hips, almost reverently, cupping his balls in one hand, while the other grabs the base of his cock.  
Will feels Hannibals tongue flick at his slit, then down and up again. He cannot quite see due to the angle, and maybe that is a blessing, because he is not sure he could deal with the sight of Hannibal Lecter kneeling to give him a filthy blow job just now.  
And then he is taken down, one inch at a time, that mouth retreating again, he is swallowed and again. He feels the hand at the base of his cock inch towards his perineum and he sobs, trying not to push into that heat. He is close already, hips stuttering brokenly, and then the hand on his balls squeezes and a finger forces itself in dry and he comes brutally, suspended on those hands, in that mouth, by that will.

Hannibal rises against him, hands coming up to frame his face, lips still licking up semen. It's the filthiest and most erotic thing Will has ever seen. It must show on his face because Hannibal smiles at him and then pushes his tongue in Wills mouth, making him taste himself and groan helplessly. 

Hannibal pushes him over to the bed and starts to undress him, Will trying to reciprocate, still somewhat uncoordinated. When Hannibal removes Wills t-shirt he stops to trace the scar again and Will cannot help moaning at the feeling of being possessed, owned.  
He pushes his face into Hannibals neck and smells the arousal there and knows instantly that he has to follow it to the source. He mouthes down Hannibals chest, playing with the hair, licking the bellybutton, inhaling deeply when he gets to the boxer shorts. A hand on his hair stops him.

"Will, ... you don't have to."

He laughs, looks up and drags the boxers down with his teeth.   
And then he's stumped, because bravado and lust apparently reach only so far, the reality of Hannibals heavy cock quite daunting. He closes his eyes, trying to gather his wits, and flashes back to just yesterday evening, realizing that -that- had been inside him. The thought is unexpectedly utterly erotic and makes him moan, and he nuzzles into the pubic hair, shaking with an almost abstract arousal. Tentativley he licks and wonders at the softness of the skin, the groan the action extracts from Hannibal. He does it again and then grows bolder, slowly getting used to the feel on his lips, ghosting over the skin, rubs his face against it carefully. Hannibals hands clench and unclench next to his hips, and he slides his hands to link them, drawing up, putting his lips to the top, trying to remember what feels good to him, sliding down slowly, gagging early and draws back up. He gasps, thinking how the hell his lovers may have been able to do that and decides to not let himself be deterred. He tries again, one inch at a time, Hannibal breathing heavily through his nose now, makes his lips soft, and just gives it his best shot, starting to bop his head, swallowing beads of precum, the taste unexpectedly arousing. Hannibals startled exhale makes him smile and squeeze his hands. He starts to lose himself in the rhythm now, and misses Hannibals repeated, breathless and desperate warnings. Suddenly Hannibal jerks, and Wills mouth is full of semen, the taste slightly salty, intense and somehow unexpected and sticky.  
He cannot swallow everything and spits some on the sheets, trying desperately to catch his breath, feeling somehow and rather overwhelmingly profoundly sated.

In a daze he lets Hannibal pull him up onto his chest and kiss him deeply. Hannibal licks everywhere he can reach, making Will feel heavenly debauched. When the kisses slow down to pecks and his eyelids grow heavy, Will feels Hannibal reach passed him, set the clock on the nightstand and then kiss his eyes and draw the blanket over them. He settles in his arms, pushing his head under his chin, breathes in deeply, and sleeps.

______________________

They board the ferry with minutes to spare, timing it so they will be amidst hurried passengers and they are not spared a single glance. They keep among the crowd, a few feet apart, slowly making their way to the cabin Hannibal somehow managed to book on the pre historic computer in the hotels lobby after their short nap.

They had been given some amused looks, suggesting that they may have been quite loud. Will had had to swallow and then they were asked whether they are on their honeymoon and Will felt himself go an impressive shade of red, somewhat angry at himself at the reaction, while Hannibal just drew him in at the waist and smiled, silently confirming without words. 

He chances a look at the reservation on the printout now, for the first time seeing their new names since they evaded immigration entering the UK so successfully and never bothering before, leaving dealings with the hotel to Hannibal. 'William Shaw' and 'Henning Friese'. Huh. Well, he supposes it doesn't really matter and at least he won't have to learn to react to another name. Will wonders to how many names Hannibal answers.

They reach their cabin without hassle and it’s very reminiscent of their cargo ship cabin, though slightly cleaner and more colorful. Will cracks a smile and turns to Hannibal.

„William Shaw?“

„I admit I have grown fond of your name, Will, it is not as distinct as my own and therefore I insisted on it. My own, northern german choice, will explain my accent to most and will not raise any suspicion. I hope you like it?“

Will shrugs. 

„Will there be many occasions for me to call you that in public?“

„I suppose not. Most likely we will have to switch names several times before we are able to settle down for any longer time. But, that is yet to be determined. It will depend on whether we manage to lay low for a while undetected or if we are discovered again.“

Hannibal pauses and fiddles uncharacteristically with some non existent fluff on his jacket and then looks him straight in the eye. 

„I am sorry but there will not be a small house with dogs for a long time to come, Will. The hunt is on and though I do not willingly draw them to us this time, the fact that the ransom is for kill on sight now will only intensify it.“

Will nods slowly, smiling crookedly, somewhat sadly but accepting. The scar on his cheek pulls at his skin, the makeup brittle. A yearning he was not aware of in his chest, he slowly breathes through it and then steps into Hannibals space. 

„We better start with that physiotherapy soon. I will need the strength in my arm“.

_______________________

 

They leave the ferry amidst another throng of passengers, take the train to Amsterdam, arriving at the main station close to noon the next day. Will simply has to get himself a sandwich from those in-the-wall automatic-food-sale-thingies and makes a big show of relishing it while Hannibal looks on presumably murdering the inventor in his thoughts. It’s actually not that good, but Will is enjoying this way too much to not eat it up with a relish, even going as far as licking his fingers, snickering silently at Hannibals look of disgust.

He absent mindedly scratches his once more clean shaven chin while they take the tram to their hotel. Hannibal sat him into one of those photo booths at the station, wasting a lot of money until he was satisfied with the picture. Apparently, even though the scar on his cheek is only slightly hidden by make up today in order to give it a healed appearance, it is not obvious due to the specific angle and Will almost didn’t recognize himself anyway. He looks…. severe and relaxed, grounded, his eyes utterly blue against the grey background. 

„Maybe I should get a hair cut, color my hair?“

„A growing out coloring will draw more attention than your natural color. I have already sent a message, that we will need to update your passport picture though. And I like the length of your hair.“

Will snorts. He -has- noticed, Hannibal always pulls his fingers through in post coital haze, almost unconsciously Will gathers.

„We should get me an electric razor then so I can shave myself though. There’s no way I’m doing that straight razor thing by myself. And as much as I enjoy you doing it for me, relying on you for shaving is just a little impractical don’t you think?“

Hannibal concedes that point with a small tilt of his head though he seems not happy about it and then presses the stop button. They exit somewhere downtown, and Will is struck with the extreme relaxation the city exudes. Or maybe it’s just the million bikes going by or the people eating lunch on the boardwalk in front of their apartments. He soaks it up, falling in step with Hannibal.

Hannibal leads him towards a little design hotel, all dark colors and stark contrasts, where they get two single but interconnected rooms, claiming to be there on business. The guy at the reception changes the low key techno music twice while they check in, making Hannibal wince oh so slightly, but doesn’t even look at their names. 

They take the narrow dimly lit stairs and Will is pleasantly surprised at his room. It’s a 70s avantgarde modern mix in muted colors and a very modern bathroom. And the bed appears big enough for two. Hannibal opens the door connecting the rooms, smirking slightly and they settle in. 

„What do we do now?“

Hannibal turns to him and pushes a stray lock from his face, a move that’s achingly intimate and makes Wills chest clench. He smiles, his teeth flashing.

„We go shopping.“


	3. Chapter 3

They return in the early evening hours and Will feels thoroughly done. Hannibals limp has returned minutely, no matter how much he pretends otherwise.   
They got themselves some new undescript clothes at a big department store, Hannibal almost forcibly having to drag himself passed the suits, which made Will snicker and earned him a look of promised retribution.

They drew money at a small malls cash machine, using a credit card apparently belonging to a ‚Jean-Claude Mareau‘, and then entered a small second hand computer store there, getting a worn looking Macbook Air. Last stop was a drugstore, where they got some utilities, an electric razor for Will, more of the frigging makeup and lube, which made Will blush wildly though the guy at the counter didn’t even bat an eye. 

Back at the hotel Hannibal sets up the Mac and connects to the free WiFi, within minutes thoroughly annoyed with the connection speed and hiding it poorly. In fact, Will realizes, Hannibal seems to have dropped all his person suits around him, a realization that makes the warm fuzzy feeling in him grow by leagues.  
Will lies beside him on the bed watching quietly, hearing his stomach growl, but way to comfortable to insist on getting up again already.

Hannibal takes a photo of Wills new pictures with his phone and transfers it to the Mac by bluetooth. He zips and encrypts the photo and then opens the Tor-network sending it via a nondescript site which takes a felt eternity on their connection. Hannibal sighs, and then proceeds to enter some kind of bitcoin exchange, transferring funds from one number account to another, the amounts staggering high. Will raises his eyebrows at him but doesn’t comment. Hannibal cocks his head, sighing slightly at the screen.

„Do not concern yourself with money, Will. Most of my money has been set aside for a situation like this for years. As I am sure you know my family has old money at its disposal. My uncle transferred most of my inheritance to me at an early age and I have been preparing for eventualities like this since….“

He trails off, his back rigid, apparently still expecting some kind of rejection from Will. Will closes his eyes, exhales and then puts a hand on his back, over the brand.

Hannibal inclines his head, relaxes slowly and then closes the Mac with palpable relief when the transfer is complete. 

„Come. Let us find a restaurant with food that deserves to be called as such.“

___________________

They walk very slowly, leisurely now. The city smells of water, the canals and bridges somehow very soothing for Will. They stay away from the really fancy restaurants even though Will can feel Hannibals yearning intensely.

They find a small fish restaurant in one of the side streets, half hidden but the smell draws them in. The menu is very short, the wine cellar non existent but the ordered snapper is a revelation and the offered white wine even brings a little smile to Hannibals face. Will doesn’t realize that he has closed his eyes, basking in the atmosphere, when he feels more than sees Hannibal draw near, speaking close to his ear. 

„Would you like dessert?“ 

Will opens his eyes, tilting his head, raising his eyebrows slowly, allowing himself revel in the feeling, knowing they most likely live on borrowed time and determined to make the best of it. His smile is soft, but bordering on dirty.

„Are you offering?“

Hannibal slowly raises his hand, tracing his lips, right there, for all to see, and it takes Wills breath away.

__________________

They walk back again slowly, enjoying the air at the canals, the easy atmosphere of the city, and the slow, expectant buildup between them. There’s a party going on in the lobby of the hotel and though Hannibal is somewhat irritated they slip past unnoticed and Will pushes him slightly up the stairs, feeling giddy. Hannibal spares him an amused glanced at that, but goes willingly, Will right at his back.

They enter Hannibals room together because there’s no one there to see anyway and Will pushes Hannibal slowly, leisurely towards the wall, kicking the door closed behind them and mouthing his neck slowly. He feels weightless, the music of the party drumming in his blood, running his hands up Hannibals sides. Hannibal undulates in front of him, releasing a breath slowly, the end almost a moan. 

„I…“

„Yes, Will.“

Will closes his eyes, concentrates on the feeling of Hannibals hair in his face where he tilts his head back in the dim light of the street lamps outside, the room cast in shadows. There is no rush now, just a deep need, almost hurtful. Hannibals hand comes back, sliding up his thigh, his ass to his waist, pushing Will harder against his back, his other hand bracing against the wall. Will grinds against him minutely seeing Hannibal closes his eyes, and Will nuzzles under his jaw, nipping at his throat, nosing through the beard there. 

Will slides his hands slowly to the front of Hannibals pants, teasing his erection a bit and chuckling softly against Hannibals throat when he feels his gasp and the involuntary twitch of his hips. He pulls open the belt buckle, lowers the zipper and opens Hannibals pants, slowly and carefully sliding his pants and boxers down over his hips, letting them rest around his knees. He reaches for the supplies they bought on the small table next to them, retrieving the lube with shaking hands, feeling Hannibal squeeze his waist in reassurance.

He squeezes some of it on his right fingers, feeling Hannibal widen his stance and shortening Wills breath. He lets his fingers trail down, slowly finding his target, catching on the rim, making them both groan. He teases a bit and then pushes slowly in, feeling Hannibal open to him with a deep moan and he is very glad that his erection is still trapped in his pants, the slight discomfort saving him from coming right now. He flashes back a few nights and concentrates on opening Hannibal up and actually finding the spot, that undid him so efficiently back then. Hannibal jerks and Will gasps a relieved laugh at his throat, earning him a slight slap at his ass. He pushes back into that spot, and feels Hannibal bend his back, offering himself more. Wills heart speeds up even more, and he introduces another finger, getting the hang of it really well really fast. 

„Will, please.“

Hannibals voice is rough, he swallows and turns his head so his mouth is close to Wills. 

„Now.“

Will is panting now, leaning his weight on Hannibals back, opening his own pants, and lining up slowly, ever so slowly pulling his fingers out, leaving Hannibal gasping against his face. He pours more lube over his cock, and pushes his face as close as he can to Hannibals, wiping his hand on his pants uncaringly, grabbing Hannibals hips with it and linking his left hand with Hannibals right against the wall. 

He tries to steady himself with a breath and pushes, the tightness and heat taking every thought away. Distantly he hears Hannibal moan brokenly and drops his forehead to his shoulder, feeling Hannibals body give way and engulf him.  
He tries to breathe through the feeling, his orgasm already beckoning but refuses to give in just yet. He rolls his hips, keeping it tortuously slow and changing the angle until he finds the one that has Hannibal mewling, making Will smile against his shoulder. He keeps the pace, refusing to speed up, feeling Hannibals restraint crumbling. It’s always one more, any push, every pull, until its almost meditative, and Will doesn’t need to let the pendulum swing to align their experience. He can feel Hannibal breaking in slow motion and he takes his right hand and pulls at Hannibals cock the moment it’s too much, a shout forced out of him when Hannibal clenches around him and he breaks with him. 

He comes back to himself wondering how the hell they have managed to keep standing up and then giggling into Hannibals neck at the sight they must make, nosing contently, utterly glad that they did not manage to turn on the lights before. He feels Hannibal swallow a few times and take a deep breath, his voice still rough.

„As much as I enjoyed this, Will, I am afraid we will need to relocate now. I might have stood in this position too long, I have a cramp in my back.“

Will snorts, his forehead pushing repeatedly against Hannibals shoulder, feeling simply alive.

_________________

 

There is a small package at the front desk for them when they go down for breakfast the next morning, containing Wills new updated passport and new credit cards for their aliases. Breakfast is simple, they opt for coffee and croissants, the latter being surprisingly good. 

Hannibal skims the newspaper, Will just enjoys the terrible coffee and watches the traffic outside, contemplating how different the world feels now. Hannibals question pulls him back from his quiet thoughts.

„Do you still wish to pay Bedelia a visit?“

Will licks along his teeth, cocking his head, evaluating the emotions the question evokes. He cannot conjure the contempt he knows he probably should feel at the suggestion.

„Do you want to go back already so soon?“

Hannibal smiles, a dangerous smile, that nonetheless reaches his eyes.

„When you warned Bedelia that you would try to set me free, she was wise enough to try to outrun me. However, she was not successful enough laying low, accepting an invitation from a former colleague for residency. I received an email from Chiyo with her address in Paris. Would you like to join me for dinner?“

It is said lightly and without any inflection but Will can feel the weight of it in his bones. He recalls his fleeting thought in his last session with Bedelia, wondering if he would taste her someday. He can’t help but wonder, looking Hannibal right in the eye, taking a sip of his coffee, expression innocently tamed.

„Do you need help picking out a recipe?“

Hannibals eyes crinkle.


	4. Chapter 4

They check out three days later, with new suitcases filled with a variety of low key clothes ordered online, courtesy of the fact they didn’t think it would be very smart to go on extended shopping sprees and loath to leave the bed anyway, concentrating on healing and... other things. All hail next day delivery. Except for food of course, Hannibal deemed the hotels snack bar a lost cause at the first glance and Will could not help but agree. 

One thing they did go out and shop was a decent folding knife for both Will and Hannibal. Will can feel its weight in the pocket of his leather jacket and it grounds him.

They take a cab to the station this time, once more taking a train, this time to Gare du Nord, only 4 hours away. Hannibal, already pretty cheery since the fall, all things considered, perks up considerably when they depart the train at their destination, the big station noisy and full of life.

„Welcome to Paris, Will, one of the many cities I intend to show you. I sincerely hope we will be able to experience this city to the fullest, especially after Florence was cut short and since we will not be able to return there for a time.“

Will raises an eyebrow at him, feeling a tickle on his forehead at the reminder and slightly off kilter at the memory. Of course Hannibal notices and he licks his lips while walking along the platform with Will in tow, keeping his head and voice low beneath the stupid cap.

„One more of the things that I would wish undone, for it would definitely not have quenched my hunger for you. Still, maybe you will be able to forgive me in time. To be honest though, I cannot wholly regret this mark on you, so beautifully representing the mark I have left on your mind, for all the world to see.“

„Another mark of ownership.“

„If you so will. We are more than an assortment of scars, Will, yet defined by them. And, before we will be gone from this world, I gather that you will leave your marks on me for all to see as well.“

There is a small smile tugging at Hannibals mouth as he says this. Will falls slightly back, pushing through the crowd at the stations entrance two steps behind, trying to make sense of the emotions the statement evoked, desire, excitement, pride and elation warring for dominance, with dread suspiciously missing. He catches his reflection in a glass window for an instance and the shadow behind it turns it pitch black.

They check in at another not quite low-key hotel, this time in broken antique design, with a piano missing quite a few keys in the lobby, making Hannibal cringe. Again, two rooms with a connecting door, and Will wonders if this will be his life in the foreseeable future. He showers, then, clad in a towel, wanders over to Hannibals room, who is sitting on his bed, typing away on his Macbook, verifying some information with Chiyo, again via the Tor-Network.

Hannibal raises his eyes, and Will feels himself blush at the look, with which Hannibal follows a drop of water down Wills torso. It is still so new, this awareness between them, the extension of their previous relationship so raw yet so natural, Will has to clear his throat with the emotion it provokes, refusing to be flustered.

„Will we visit her soon?“

„No. We will wait a few days.“

Hannibal smiles, genuinely rejoicing in the prospect.

„As soon as we make our move, we will have to leave the city again. I would like to stay a few days, prepare accordingly, enjoy the city with you, and then her - and you.“

He puts the laptop away, drawing Will near by the hips, almost nuzzling the scar on his stomach, the lips just touching, the beard scratching just so. Will pushes his hands through Hannibals hair slowly, enjoying the tension just below the surface. Hannibal raises his head and Will bends down slowly, ghosting over his lips then licking teasingly. 

He keeps their lips slotted together lightly, closing his eyes, unhurriedly building tension, until Hannibal tilts his head and bites down on his lower lip, hard, then pushes his tongue deep into his mouth, desire shooting instantly down Wills spine. Will groans into Hannibals mouth and the hands at his hip move to the towel, pushing it down slowly. Hannibal draws back slowly, licking his lips and Will straightens again, panting, already hard. Hannibals eyes are black, the look in them maddeningly salacious, and Will pushes forward, sees those lips part for him, the wet heat making his legs start to tremble right away. He keeps his hands on Hannibals head lightly, and lets his head fall back, content to let Hannibal set the pace for now and feels him licking, mouthing his length, slowly sucking around the tip, tonguing the slit, worshipping him. The hands on his hips move to his ass and start to pull rhythmically, in time with Hannibals sucking him down, and Will cannot help it. He moans loudly, letting his head fall forward again, looking down and then grasps Hannibals head, and pushes. He feels his dick hit Hannibals throat and it’s desperate now, and then he feels Hannibal swallow around him and he holds in intense pleasure, hips stuttering, his orgasm whitening his vision, collapsing over Hannibal.

Hannibals voice is raspy, the fingers digging into his skin, likely leaving bruises, his breath tickling his side.

„I would have you every day, forever, Will.“

And Will grins, lightly chuckling, caressing Hannibals jaw, thumbing his lips slightly.

„So have me.“

______________________

 

They spend a few days visiting a few museums, though, prudent for fear of discovery but still rather sacrilegious, not the Louvre. Hannibal starts physiotherapy on him, ignoring his complaints, starting him on the long road to a once more fully functioning shoulder, although he admits that the range will likely be restricted. They take long walks along the Seine in the late evenings, Hannibal describing his youth to Will. It’s easy and Will feels as if on an extended vacation. It’s funny, he thinks, how fast the moral shackles fall, when you let go. 

———————————

 

„What will you take?“

It’s almost a whisper, though said lightly, his voice still carrying. Hannibal looks at him from where he is seated next to him in the row at the back of Notre Dame, the glass windows in the impressive cathedral painting their faces in colorful shadows. They have been here for almost an hour now, soaking up the atmosphere of the old goth building, the gargoyles high above not able to turn their specific kind of monster away. Hannibal answers in kind.

„I was thinking that I would refer to you in this.“

Will considers, watching the candles flicker, the few tourists still around at this hour hustle around noisily, his voice taking on an amused tone.

„Well, she -did- try to run….“

Hannibal eyes crinkle, he purses his lips, considering.

„I hope Bedelia colleague has an inner yard. It would be a shame to not to be able to properly roast the meat.“

Will hums, his appetite whet.


	5. Chapter 5

The next sunday they mingle with the crowd at „Les Puces de Saint-Ouen“, staying back, not looking at the flea market items much. It is not hard to spot her, the flamboyant clothing still unreasonably present, and they follow at a large distance, watching her browse slowly. Strictly speaking, it would not be necessary to stalk her, but Hannibal insisted on morphing this into a tactics lesson and Will cannot quite fault him. Besides, they do need to find out whether she’s got herself protection anyway. 

Will feels eager to hunt, more so than anticipated, the focus of it breathtakingly intense. They have split up some time ago, Hannibal taking a slightly different route and Will crosses the street unhurriedly, keeping an eye on Bedelias progress from time to time, his face hidden beneath an ugly cap. 

He watches the crowd, inhales, his eyes unfocusing, absorbs the myriad of expressions around him and feels a prickle at the base of his spine. There. There is a man there just an iota too interested, too focused, the mans sharp eyes hidden behind some designer sunglasses. Will watches him for a few seconds, sees the exact moment the man realizes he is watched. The man searches the crowd, hand near his pockets now, no doubt close to a hidden weapon. Will just hopes Bedelia briefed him well. Will slowly pushes forward, waits till the man finds his eyes and smiles.

It’s instant recognition, the mans eyes flitting to search the crowd for Hannibal, no doubt. Wills heart speeds up just a bit, a far cry from the panicked hammering of years back. Will folds in on himself, letting his shoulders stoop low, making his posture more unthreatening, giddily glad for his clean-shaven face, making him seem younger. He discards the hunt for Bedelia for now and enters a small street, fervently hoping the man will be stupid enough to take the bait, pushing his fists deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Will is not disappointed, having gone down the little alley just a few meters when there is the sound of a gun being cocked at him and the sensation of a silencers muzzle at the back of his neck. He stops, rolls his shoulders just a tad back, shifting his weight to one leg and waits, easily.

The muzzle presses him forward, and he goes willingly, the man behind him seemingly quite calm but Will can hear him twist a bit around continuously, checking behind him. Well, good survival instincts, the man has every right to be nervous, not that that matters now.

Will reaches a dead end, and stops just short of the house wall. His right hand opens the folding knife almost soundlessly, the little snick alerting the man behind him and he is spun around roughly by a hand on his shoulder, taking the momentum, the knife coming up while still turning, entering just below the mans sternum, pointed upwards, piercing the heart in one smooth motion.

There is almost no reaction at first, the mans grip on Wills shoulder tightening imperceptibly, the mouth going slack in disbelief, the gun pointing just past his head wavering just minutely. Will can see his reflection in the mans sunglasses, eyes black, face serene, flushed cheeks. He draws a shuddering breath and it shatters the moment, the man dropping to his knees, trying to bring the gun over to Will, who just butts it away and it clatters to the ground a few feet away, the grip on his shoulder loosening. The man collapses at his feet, coughing now, and Will kneels down and slowly slips the sunglasses from his face, putting them on his own forehead. The mans eyes are wide with shock and pain, and foolish hope still, the knife still stuck in his chest, effectively preventing fatal blood loss for now.

„Where is the other one?“

The man coughs, painfully pulling himself together, forcing himself to answer.

„There… there is no other one.“

Will shakes his head at him amusedly, chancing a look over his shoulder at the entrance of the alley, where the people are hustling by. 

„Of course there is. Bedelia is far from stupid. Don’t think I am….“

The man is shaking now, and he focuses on Will with almost feverish intensity, defiant.

„Go to hell.“

Will laughs at the irony, and leans down to whisper in his ear.

„Not today…. and not with you.“

In one swift motion he pulls the knife from the wound, drawing back to get himself out of the way of the blood, watching the mans eyes break. He wipes the knife on the mans clothes and rifles carefully through his clothes, takes his identification and mobile, which he snaps in two, then arranges him as if drunk, hiding the blood from bypassers. As an afterthought he dips his finger into the blood, briefly contemplating to licking at it, and then drips one droplet onto his own chest, just below the collar of his shirt, hidden under the leather jacket, just knowing that Hannibal will want a taste, but not so keen on it himself. He wipes his finger carefully on the mans jacket and stands, taking in the coppery smell in the cold mid morning air, breathing open mouthed.

He turns, puts on the sunglasses, and returns to the street, smiling at the sun.

_____________________

He catches up close to Bedelia after some time, still browsing, going roughly the same direction, oblivious. It is almost noon now and the smell coming from the Brasseries nearby makes his stomach rumble. He doesn’t need to turn to know who makes his skin tingle and he tilts his head towards Hannibal, smiling at his ridiculous touristy attire, complete with a Chicago Bulls cap worn backwards, the smile greeting him bordering on lewd.

„I see you enjoyed yourself.“

„I would have thought you would join me.“

„The back alley would not have been a suitable place for us to stay, the way this affects you. I thought it prudent to watch from afar. You are very much able to handle a situation like this, Will. Also I was able to keep a look on his partner that way. But… I look very much forward to properly appreciate your… gift.“

The last word is spoken with a deep inhale, Hannibals eyes almost glowing in their intensity, making Will almost light headed. Yes, it probably would not have been a very good idea, if Hannibal had been there. Will wonders whether he will always be this keyed up after killing, this aroused. He draws a breath, trying to relax, scanning the crowd.

„Where is his partner?“

„She is over there, on the other side of the market, slowly getting fidgety. Please pass me his ID.“

Will wordlessly hands over the wallet with the ID, Hannibal scanning the name and sending a text, the mobile flashing an answering text within minutes. 

„An ex army private investigator. His partner is an uthonorable discharged detective, they appear to be a two-man-show. She has apparently enough connections to the police to get support if she needs to.“

„We need to take her out before she suspects something.“

Hannibal smiles at him in a way that makes Will warm inside and he recognizes the transmitted feeling as pride, trying to swallow it down quickly. 

„Do you wish to?“

„No. I want to watch.“


	6. Chapter 6

They follow Bedelia for a few more minutes until they reach a small building with a miniature shop selling beverages and Hannibal makes his way over to its other side slowly, keeping to the shadows. Will steps casually into the woman view, averting his head but keeping his eyes on her from below his glasses. He sees her catch his sight, check her phone and gnaw on her lip, checking Bedelias position. He deliberately changes direction, and she follows just a few feet along, but having to step around the building now in order to keep him in line of sight. She never makes it to the other side.

Hannibal has her by the throat against the wall, his body slotted against hers almost intimately, her arms trapped between them, his lips hovering close to hers, making it look as if they are just making out in semi private. Will knows why and wanted to see and still he feels the bottom give out and himself burning with jealousy he cannot quite contain. Her eyes drop closed already, Hannibals fingers effectively having cut off the blood flow, posture relaxing, unconscious. Hannibal looks at him, smiles exuberantly and tugs her head against his neck, hides the bruises with her collar pulled up, fakes an extreme american accent, his voice deliberately loud.

„Hey buddy, you speak english? Mind getting us a cab? My girlfriend hat too much prosecco this morning, I guess, cannot hold her liquor the stupid gal, but had to drink it anyway. Paris, huh?“

Will laughs, the sound utterly fake in his ears and calls down a cab. He offers to help loudly, and they make quite a spectacle getting her into the car, hiding in plain sight, Hannibal entering with her and then addressing Will and the driver alike, giving the address of a small hostel downtown, near the opera.

Will waves after the cab, laughs once more for effect and then buys himself a coffee and a croissant absentmindedly, wandering off to the next subway, chancing a look in Bedelias direction, now without protection, but still oblivious. He smiles to himself tightly and gets himself downtown.

____________________________

He meets Hannibal, sitting in in the hostels lobby rifling through some magazines, and follows him through the bustling tourists and teenagers to a small four bed room, three of the beds unoccupied, with windows to the back inner yard. He steps into the room after Hannibal and leans backward against the door, his emotions suddenly a jumbled mess, listening to Hannibal, so pleased with himself.

„I had reserved this room for contingency reasons. We are american tourists, teachers to be precise, here for educational reasons. There are always pupils here on a field trip from somewhere. And the location is most fortunate. Did you know that Gaston Leroux’ „Phantom of the opera“ was based on quite a few facts, though of course not quite so romantically embellished? I would like to use the underground tunnels to get into the opera and maybe set our little private investigator here in box 5. The catacombs can be accessed right out there, through the sewers.“

He chuckles to himself, and turns slightly to observe Will, still standing there, unmoving, hands in his pocket. Hannibal checks the bindings on the woman body, then comes at him, eyes black and deadly serious suddenly. It takes Wills breath away and he feels a phantom pain in his belly, the smile throbbing.

Hannibal grabs him by the chin with his left hand, fingers almost painfully tight and Will raises his eyes defiantly, his lips almost in a snarl. Hannibal comes closer, right hand next to Wills head against the door, never breaking their gaze, his lips ghosting over Wills, almost biting, almost touching, his proximity a dark turn on, that has Will rock hard almost immediately. He doesn’t move an inch. Hannibal speaks against his mouth, voice hard, dark, and the thrill of seeing Hannibal so almost unleashed again travels up Wills spine. 

„Jealousy does not become you.“

Will snarls at him, the feeling suddenly white-hot in him and his hands are in fists in his pockets now. Hannibal snarls back, more beast than man for an instant, and bites at Wills mouth, drawing blood, pushing his tongue deep once, there and gone, painting both their mouths crimson, and making them both pant. Hannibal continues to speak directly in the minute space between their mouths, voice low now, and just a tiny bit softer.

„She is not worthy of your jealousy, I hope you are aware of that.“

Will feels the jealousy flare into nothing, the remaining feeling a bottomless desperation that makes him moan. He bumps his forehead against Hannibals, whispering, heart hammering against his throat with the uncomfortable, finally fully realized truth.

„I hope -you- are aware that I killed, for us, for me, for you, and that…. that there is no-one for me except you now….. If you leave me I’ll kill you.“

Hannibal chuckles darkly, ending in a content sigh.

„With your hands, I hope.“

Hannibal moves his right hand to Wills throat, squeezing lightly, making Will light-headed, Hannibals body flush against him, sharing the arousal.

„What a stunning boy you are. I would wish to devour you now, but unfortunately we cannot dwell here too long. Do you still wish to watch?“

Will releases a long breath, and closes his eyes for a few seconds, his eyes stormy as the sea when he reopens them.

„Yes.“

__________________________

They opt for a relatively bloodless setting this time, Hannibal cutting her vocal cords, removing her eyes and tongue, and breaking her neck, seating her there in the fabulous beauty of the parisian opera, in Box 5. It’s still relatively early, there is no-one at the theater yet and they go in and out like ghosts. She stares sightless at the stage, eyes in one hand, tongue in the other, her mobile on silent on her knees. She is half hidden from view and Hannibal breaks the lock on the way out, lest she be discovered too early. 

He drags Will to the stairs almost violently afterwards and then kisses him desperately, they go at it nearly frantic on the floor of the platform, rutting feverishly, Hannibal nosing his neck, going after that little droplet of blood that Will left there for him to find. Will hears the fabric of his shirt tear and he couldn’t give a shit right now, holding on for dear life, his hands in Hannibals hair, Hannibals right hand coming up to close over is mouth, containing his moans, the left on his ass, pulling him in. It’s beyond good and not good enough and over way too soon. 

He is emotionally spent afterwards, breathing against Hannibal shakingly, clothes sticky and uncomfortable, fully and unflinchingly actually experiencing his reality, the dreamlike veneer of the last weeks fading, feeling tears trail down his cheeks. Hannibal nuzzles closer, linking their hands, as they have done uncountable times in the last few weeks, silently grounding him. Wills stomach rumbles, reminding him of the skipped meal, and he coughs a laugh through his tears. Hannibal hums against him, dissolving some of the tension, and Will sighs and then kisses Hannibal languidly, achingly sweet.

„I meant what I said.“

„I am aware. And I never forget, nor break my promises, Will. I will not let you go now, therefore I will not leave you. You would do well to remember that, my dear. Would you still like me to make you dinner? Unfortunately we cannot dare to delay further, we would have to prepare now.“

Will wipes his eyes with his sleeve, sniffs, and then raises his eyes at Hannibal.

„My dear?“

Hannibal eyes crinkle, his voice amused.

„There are many things I have called you within the confines of my own head, Will, however I think we will need to slowly ease into calling each other ‚pet names‘, don’t you think? I have noticed you not objecting to my calling you ‚boy‘ though.“

Will feels the blush creep up to his ears and he has to clear his throat, although his answering tone borders on playful.

„Ah, so that’s why you wanted me clean-shaven.“

„No, that was so I could do this.“

Hannibal chuckles, and then deliberately licks along his jaw all the way to his ear, making Will shudder.


	7. Chapter 7

Will stands under the shower in his hotel room, enjoying the hot water when Hannibal opens the door, already showered, putting his head through.

„Is there something specific you would like to eat for dessert?“

Will considers, then smiles.

„Frederick once told me, that you made him some kind of blood pudding…. We’d have enough blood, wouldn’t we?“ 

„I believe so. An excellent choice. I will go out for the necessary ingredients. I have made arrangements via a business contact for some proper clothes befit a special dinner to be brought to us. Please open the door at precisely 4:00pm. I will return shortly.“ 

Will shakes his head under the spray, somewhat fondly. So much for his life without suits.

_____________________________

At 4:00pm he opens the door in a bathrobe to find a rather large suitcase standing there, which he takes into his room with some difficulty. Inside there are two suits on hangers, one black, with an almost invisible shiny pattern, and one dark grey, the fabric also shiny. The shirts are off-white. Dark brown dress shoes. All fitting, of fucking course. No ties, Will notices. Probably doesn’t want to raise the red flags too high.

There is another small weekender at the bottom of the suitcase, the contents self explanatory upon inspection. There is a manual bone saw, scalpels, a morphine infusion and some other medical equipment, like tourniquets and bandages. And a key, from the looks for some kind of cellar. Must have been some business contact.

He dresses slowly, combing his hair back, and goes over into Hannibals room, his own rather crowded with the enormous suitcase. There is a small tray with fruits and cheese there, no doubt ordered explicitly from room service and he tries to still his rumbling stomach with an apple and an orange, going to pains not to get his suit dirty.

It is almost 5:00pm when Hannibal returns, carrying bags full of ingredients, putting them carefully down before turning to Will. He beckons Will near and Will goes slowly, making a bit of a show of himself, just enough to see Hannibals eyes darken. Hannibals hands run up his lapels, smooth out some non-existent crinkles in his shirt and then trail down to his waist, before he steps back and smiles at him appreciatively.

„I have bought you an aftershave. Please, tell me if you like it.“

Will raises one eyebrow, taking the offered bottle slowly, taking an experimentally whiff, the aroma not half as hearty as expected.

„Baldessarini?“

„I believe it suits you. I will get dressed now, some of the ingredients should not stay too long without proper cooling. We will leave in 15 Minutes.“

_______________________

They take a cab uptown to the address Chiyo has informed them about, the backseat full of bags. They get out at a parallel street, Hannibal striding with confidence through a small iron garden door into a backyard, the suns low rays illuminating his face with a reddish glow, it’s hue sparking something in Will that makes his pulse throb.

Hannibal waltzes right up to the backside of the big house, keeping to the shadow between the bushes, the rustling of the bags swallowed by the wind moving the leafs and Will hurries to keep up. They stop at a little side entrance, Hannibal retrieving the key and smirking at Will, opens the door to the cellar, apparently doubling as a gardening tools shed. There is another door inside, on the other side of the room, which opens with the same key. They open the door with a small creak, both freezing at the sound. The stairs beyond are dark, and there is classical music playing somewhere. Hannibal turns and pushes a stray lock behind Wills ear, trailing his fingers lightly down his cheek in a rather rare show of hesitating vulnerability and then smiles softly and retrieves a syringe from the weekender, leaving the other bags. He starts up the stairs.

Will looks after him for a moment, the predetermination so vastly different from situational violence. He breathes through his nose slowly, raising his chin and thinks about the taste of Bluebeards last, no previous wife. His eyes are blue steel when he starts up the stairs behind Hannibal.


	8. Chapter 8

When he gets through the little foyer to the living room it's drastic anticlimatic. Bedelia is deeply asleep on the couch, courtesy of a gallonfull of drugs if Will were to guess, and Hannibal is crossing over to the kitchen visible through the dining room, checking the premises. Will stands there a bit nonplussed, feeling just a tad out of place and utterly superfluous, watching her breathe. She is wearing some kind of fancy home pyjama, all silk and slippers, and of course there is some white wine next to her on a little antique table.

Hannibal comes back, shaking his head.

"There is a little inner yard, as I had hoped, however, the kitchen is an almost pitiable size. We will probably need to use the cellar. Would you be so kind as to get the bags? I will prepare the fire in the inner yard."

Will nods, feeling a little unsettled about his own disappointment about the lack of violence, just knowing that Hannibal can pick that up from him. He takes off his jacket, folding it on a chair nearby neatly and folds his cuffs up carefully. He gets the bags from the cellar, then puts some plastic sheeting on the cellar floor on Hannibals prompting, and carries Bedelia swiftly down the stairs and places her onto it. He is surprised how very light she feels. He runs his hands through her hair when Hannibal comes down to him and watches him curiously, kneeling there in the flickering lonely bulbs light.

"You wonder whether I washed her hair as I have washed yours? I did. It is a sensual experience I do delight in. However, I can assure you that I have not shared any showers with her."

Will draws a golden hair up and lets it flow down again.

"Did you have sex?"

"From time to time. She expected it of me and I did try to exorcise my feelings for you. It seemed practical."

Weirdly enough there is no jealousy in Will at that, just something bordering on accepting contempt. Considering his reaction to that foolish woman just this morning it unsettles him even more. He lets his gaze drift down Bedelias body, settling on the legs, not wanting to linger even more on -any- feelings for her. Hannibal tilts his head.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

Will closes his eyes and lets the pendulum swing just for an instant, evoking the feelings and situation accepting this offer would bring. He licks his lips.

"Yes."

_______________________

 

Hannibal places some of the plastic sheeting over his knees up to his waist, which makes Will feel more than a little ridiculous, before he hooks Bedelia up to an infusion. Will is too keyed up suddenly to make something of it though. This is a vastly different situation than the almost ritualistic carving up of flesh he went through with Randall Tier. He had taken Randalls body back to his farm, leaving it there in the barn overnight in favor of makeshift repairing the window and keeping his dogs at least halfway warm. It hat been very cold though not yet frozen when he went back to it, the saw going through the cold flesh without problems. Now, there would be medical problems to consider.

"Do we keep her alive?"

The question startles himself, the words seemingly spoken without much brain intervention.  
Hannibal smirks and leans his forehead against his temple.

"Do you not want to see her reaction?"

Will trails his eyes to her tranquil face, and of course there is only one answer.  
He turns his head, both foreheads together.

"Will you guide my hand?"

Hannibal noses along his jaw to his ear and into the hair at the nape of his neck, moving silently into a kneeling position directly behind him, placing his hands on his hips, knees spread wide on each side of Wills. Will feels his hands burn through the clothes and he reaches for the scalpel in the weekender slowly, feeling Hannibals chest expand against his back, his breath against his neck. He slowly drags the scalpel through the satin pants of Bedelias left leg, the cloth falling away, and looks at the pale flesh. 

"The tourniquet, first."

Will exchanges the scalpel for the tourniquet and puts it on Bedelias leg on Hannibals murmured words, the other instructions only light pressure on his hips indicating the position. It feels beyond intimate, not arousing just now, but almost transcendent. The first cut has him gasping and for a long moment he just watches the little drop of blood trail down, eventually christening the plastic sheeting. He cuts the outer side of her leg first, layer after layer, meditative, the actual amount of blood not so much now, Bedelia never so much as twitching. There is more blood on the inner side, and Hannibals instructions to clip the main arteries are whispered into the shell of his ear. His hands are surprisingly clean, all things considered when he reaches to exchange the scalpel with the bone saw. He remembers the jarring feeling from the last time he did this and Hannibal, of course sensing his hesitation, slowly embraces him, the left hand going to his smile, pressing, the right going up to the base of his throat, just there, making him perversely feeling calm instead of trapped. He takes a deep breath, the air saturated with the copper smell and her rather sweet perfume, feeling Hannibals finger against his windpipe. He places the saw and pulls, the sound almost loud enough to swallow Hannibals gasp the fingers at his throat twitching. It takes more than a few strong push-and-pulls and then suddenly the bone gives way, Will shaking now and he drops his head back against Hannibal, who almost crushes Will against himself by now. Will turns his head, dropping his head back even further on Hannibals shoulder and his lips find Hannibals in a kiss that belies the violence they have just wrought, the touch so tender it is almost not felt. Wills stomach growls and suddenly he is shaking with laughter, and Hannibal has to grip Wills hands hard, lest he flicks droplets of blood everywhere. 

"I believe that is my cue to get cooking, we would not want to ignore your bodies needs longer than absolutely necessary."

Will chuckles some more, then carefully puts down the saw on the sheeting, next to the scalpel and their pound of flesh. Hannibal withdraws a bit and carefully takes out some tissue with which he wipes Wills hands perfunctory. He presses a small kiss against Wills throat, and then reaches passed him for the wound dressings and moves around him to wrap the wound up. Will pushes himself up, surprised that his knees are not wobbly now, and watches as Hannibal moves the leg and Bedelia onto some new sheeting, wrapping the end, and then carrying it up and presumingly outside into the inner yard. Will finds a little basin and washes his hands under the cold water feeling paradoxically utterly relaxed now. 

When Hannibal comes down again he comes up silently behind Will, who is watching Bedelia sleep and presses another kiss into the hair at his neck. 

"I believe it would be rude of us to sit her at the table like that, do you not agree? Would you be so kind as to bring her upstairs to her room? If I take the infusion out now, the morphine will last for several hours more, but she will wake in approximately 30 Minutes. Would you help her get dressed in a more fitting way?"

The last part is said a bit haltingly - for "Hannibal standards" as Will has dubbed them in his own head. He leans back against Hannibal lightly.

"Is there a dress you prefer?"

"There is a dress she never wore in Italy, it plunges rather low, blue, heavily embroidered. If it is still there I believe it would fit nicely."

_______________________

 

Will watches Bedelia come to silently from across the bed, sitting silent in a chair moved back from the window. He has to give it to her, she assesses the situation rather quick, referring to their last conversations in a forcedly calm tone, the drugs in her system helping along nicely.

"So this was what this is after all."

"Apparently."

He is not exactly in the mood for the verbal sparring just now. He is far too relaxed for that. He stands up, and picks up his jacket which he brought up earlier, putting it on slowly. He had already placed the dress on the drawer next to the bed, and he left the door open on purpose, the smells drafting up from the kitchen indecently good. Bedelia regards him with drugged cold contempt when he turns to her. 

"I wonder what he will take from you when the time comes. It will come."

Will smiles at her, eyebrows raised, the scar on his forehead almost hidden that way.

"Ah, but that time had already come, you made sure of that Bedelia. And besides, the only thing Hannibal can take from me now is something I would freely give."

He leans very close, whispering into her ear, enjoying the fear that emanates from her in waves.

"I guess you're fucked, Bedelia."

He smirks and then looks her straight in the eye.

"Would you like to dress yourself or should I do it?"

There is real desperate hate in those drugged eyes now and he matches that, seeing her turn away in defeat. He places the dress next to her, with a single matching shoe, and turns politely to the open door.

____________________________

The table is already beautifully set when he comes down, carrying Bedelia, who holds herself very stiff, wildly looking around when he puts her on the chair in the middle.  
She is beautiful when frightened Will realizes, even with disheveled hair, looking up at the sound of steps from the kitchen.

"Ah, Bedelia, how good of you to join us. You look lovely. However, though I normally despise even the mention of such a thing, I have to insist that you let me brush your hair."

Will can stop the rolling of his eyes just in the nick of time. The look Hannibal gives him in passing says he caught it anyway and Will has to turn away to hide his smirk.  
Bedelia has to swallow several times before she is ready to answer, the motion visible in the corner of Wills eye.

"Which of the recipes you sent me did you choose?"

Hannibal smiles at her, taking a comb from his inner jacket pocket and starts to tidy her hair up. 

"I have decided on the Kalua style roast, because it so befits the part Will chose. It will be perfect in about 30 Minutes."

Bedelia stares straight ahead now, until Will takes pity on her and pours her some of the white wine she had earlier, ignoring Hannibals raised eyebrows. She grabs it with a shaking hand and downs it in one swallow, and Will refills her glass, almost snickering.  
Hannibal lets her hair trail over her shoulders, all golden waves now, and excuses himself to the kitchen. Will takes a look at Bedelia, now more than halfway drunk already with the wine and the drugs wreaking havoc on her metabolism and follows Hannibal to the kitchen.  
He saunters up to Hannibal slowly, admiring the pots and pans with distinct amusement, stepping around Hannibal to try to steal a bite and is startled by the air rushing out of his lungs when he is pushed forcefully against the modern refrigerator, Hannibal pressing against him and devouring his mouth. He groans, opening wide, putting his arms around Hannibals neck and tries to give as good as he gets, hunger momentarily forgotten. Suddenly Hannibal is gone again, leaving him there gasping and the only word he has right then starts suspiciously with ass. 

Hannibal is smug as fuck in Wills professional opinion and so Will takes it upon himself to stand as much in the way as he possibly can, resulting in an elaborate dance around each other in the small kitchen thats so silly there's no way to stay serious, Hannibal fighting to keep a straight face and Will not even trying. Will takes little breaks looking after Bedelia, and then returns resuming their little game. At some point Hannibal carries in the roast and puts it on the table with a flourish and a little bow to Bedelia and then returns to the kitchen with an extra spring in his step, spiking Wills amusement even more. When Hannibal tells him to get out the platters for the side dishes and then get himself out of the kitchen and to the table he pouts exaggeratedly and goes to the door quietly, just in time for seeing Bedelia hide the little fork on her lap.

He moves passed Bedelia, just out of reach and sits down at the left hand of the table, somewhat mourning the size of this table, preferring closer quarters. Hannibal starts to lay out the platters with the steaming fruit in a pattern complimenting the roast and then pours some deep red wine for Will moving over to Bedelia.  
Will watches closely, wondering how this will go down, utterly calm. Her hand goes up when Hannibal bends over to pour her wine, targeting his throat but never making it even close. Hannibals hand shoots out with preternatural speed, catching her wrist, and, levelling his dark gaze at Will, he snaps it. The morphine in her system cannot cover the sharp pain completely and her gasp of pain matches the gasp of arousal this action elicits from Will. Hannibal "tsk"s at them both and proceeds to pour his own wine, sitting down perfectly composed, raising his glass of wine at Will, ignoring Bedelia, who cannot raise her glass now anymore.

"To new beginnings and old friends."

"And promises kept."

Bedelia defiantly, painfully raises her chin, her trembling hand dangling beside her chair and spits out the words with menace.

"And to the devils their due."

Hannibal smirks.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

Its almost midnight when they leave her there, hurting but alive, with the distinct suggestion to think up a really good story to explain the lost leg to strangers and to relocate immediately, not bothering to warn her regarding the FBI. As soon as the body of the man in the alley will be identified and the woman in the opera found, the city will be swarming with police anyway, though Bedelia is too clever to speak with them freely. And they cleaned the cellar quite thoroughly, even if the police track her ill fated escape there.  
The cab ride back downtown is peaceful, the music soothing for a change and the driver quiet and Will enjoys the breeze of the open window and the gaze he feels resting upon himself. When they return to the hotel all their belongings are already packed and waiting in the lobby. Full service friend, apparently. 

There is a small envelope containing a car key that is waiting for them on checkout and they go down into the garage to a very unobtrusive gray Honda, middle class car all the way. Will cannot help but smirk at the way Hannibal has to fold himself behind the wheel. 

"Where do we go from here?"

"I would like to stay in France for a while, if that is alright with you. Maybe something warmer?"

Will sighs contentedly, tracing an invisible pattern against the window of the door, allowing the yearning for water to resurface once more. 

"Maybe Marseille? It is the second biggest city in France and I hear there is still a lot of family business there.... We could supplement our diet from time to time there. And I could get a -proper- boat."

Hannibal links his hand with his left for a moment, squeezing, and then turns the car towards the highway leading south.

____________________________

They trade places after a few hours, Will having slept for a while, Hannibal now dozing by the looks of it, the landscape filled with wine yards and rolling hills. The rising sun sends the first rays through the trees off the highway when Hannibals mobile vibrates and he looks at the tiny screen with a smirk.

"They know we were in Paris, though it appears that Bedelia is gone."

Will immediately feels a bit pensive, stretching his neck, hearing the little pops, rolling his shoulder, the shadows of his old life reaching. Hannibals hand comes up, feels the scar on his shoulder, his fingers digging just shy of painfully. Will tries not to shrug them off, changes the topic.

"How much longer?"

"Maybe 3 or 4 hours, depending on traffic. I will arrange for a suitable residence." 

Will chances a look at him, traffic still thin so early. Hannibal is typing on his phone rapidly.

"Residence?" 

"I believe we will be able to stay for a while, if we stay low profile, as the FBI so mundanely puts it. I, for my part, am very much looking forward to staying in a place with a kitchen that deserves its name."

Of course. Will snorts. Never mind anonymous hotel rooms, but the deciding factor is the kitchen. Hannibal smiles at him almost wistfully. 

"I believe you have not looked more beautiful than you look now, Will."

Will raises his eyes disbelievingly.

"Tired, unwashed, unkempt, hungry again and did I mention tired?"

Hannibals smile widens, eyes warm, teeth flashing, face illuminated by the sun. He looks otherworldly to Will. Hannibal relaxes back into his seat, closing his eyes, no doubt storing every moment of the last few days in his Memory Palace.

"Mine."


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibals contacts leave them some keys, together with a deed to a small suburban house in a small stations locker and Will resigns himself to just never ask. He is quite sure he doesn't want the details to whatever event inspired a debt like this.

The house they pull up to is close to Cité Radieuse, the area a wild mixture of ultra modern houses, ugly 80s complexes, new architects residences and, segueing into the next area Bonneveine, somewhat boring standard mediterranean houses. The house is one of the boring standard ones, with a car pound at the side and a small side entrance there, in a rather weird orange color and terracotta bricks. Will chances a sideways look at Hannibal and has to suppress a smile, again, he thinks to himself, at the expression crossing Hannibals face. He desperately hopes that Hannibal does not have the name to contact with the keys, because that house apparently qualifies as "rude af". Still, he cannot resist needling a bit.

"You wanted to stay low..."

He gets a sour look from Hannibal and falls back, smiling to himself, entering the dark house after him. The air is stale, the covered furniture surprisingly modern though and Hannibal perks up considerably when he sees the small, but white modern kitchen. Will stops in the middle of the living room, surprised to see the ocean from the backyard, though a way off, and with a small stone wall and street between.  
He pulls open the small double leaf doors, breathing in deeply feeling more than hearing Hannibal behind him and just leans back, knowing he'll be caught in Hannibals arms. Hannibals voice is a deep rumble, mostly felt.

"Are you hungry or would you like to sleep? We could go to the ocean as well?"

Will turns in Hannibals arms and lifts his head, eyes closed. Hannibals forehead descends on his, the small mid morning breeze making them both shiver. He trails his hands up those arms and lets his hands rest left and right of Hannibals throat, the pulse thrumming sedately under his fingertips. A smile tugs at his mouth and he realizes that this is the happiest he has been in a long time. Fully here, now, content and realized, nowhere to hide or run. He breathes in, the scent of sea, salt, Hannibals aftershave and his innate personal scent unbearably arousing, though not in an obsessive way. Will lets his face drift down, his own light stubble catching, almost reminiscent of the cliff now, his head resting on Hannibals chest, arms between them, Hannibals chin pushing into the curls on his head, and they breathe each other in, just here, just now. 

 

"You were stunning."

It's a whisper into Wills hair, the arms around him tightening just slightly for a moment. Will swallows.

"You wanted to fuck me there, sawing into her."

Will feels the exhale, silent as it is, and the helpless arousal coursing through Hannibal, against his hip.

"Yes.... I wondered if you would let me."

Will groans, his fingers tightening on Hannibals throat for an instant, his blood rushing south, instantly drowning the terrified realization of being turned on by this. Desperately. Will pushes his hips into Hannibals minutely. 

"It was delicious. Dinner was delicious. I.... "

Words leave him at this. He sees the little sliver of lighter skin on his finger where his ring had been, knowing, just knowing that Hannibal has kept it somewhere, maybe for keepsake, maybe for ringsize. Who knows. He swallows and raises his head, voice shaking but trying to keep it light, words rushed with emotion. 

"I'll willingly keep your secrets and partake your meals as long as freedom is granted to us. I'll wait for you if we're caught, whatever happens. Take this world apart if we're separated. This is all I didn't know I ever wanted."

Hannibal traces a finger along his lips, whispering.

"For both of us.... So be it."

Will moans and then snaps. He tightens his hand around Hannibals throat and pushes him backwards onto the still covered sofa, somewhat crooked, but aligning their bodies, keeping their mouths apart for now, until Hannibal moves his hands up and forces his mouth down to his own, the kiss more bite and tongue than lips, instantly sharp and bloody, incisors used wildly, summoning the feeling of the previous evening with its coppery taste. 

Will drags his hands down Hannibals chest, ripping the buttons, and runs his hands up Hannibals flanks, feeling him shiver, while Hannibal keeps him close by a death grip on his ass. Will uses his knee for leverage and pulls them over so he lies properly on the sofa, Hannibal on top, still kissing deeply. He runs his hands up Hannibals back, encountering the brand and stills, tracing the pattern, releasing Hannibals mouth.  
Hannibal looks down at him, his gaze unfathomable, and theres a minute sneer there around his lips. Will raises his chin, holding his gaze, and lets the snarl free.

"Mine."

And with that he drags his nails down. Deep. Hard. Feeling the tear. Again. Changing the angle slightly, feeling some skin come off, his fingers and Hannibals back already slippery. Hannibals gaze goes from dark to black in a matter of milliseconds, otherwise holding utterly still. Will does it again, and again and again, until he feels that there is only a bloody mess there, but no discernable pattern anymore. He holds his shaking hands at Hannibals waist, their gaze unbroken and it takes Wills breath away. The darkness is right there, allowing to be bled here, for him, tamed just so.  
Hannibal is bleeding rather profusely now, the blood dripping onto Will. He moves his hand to Wills pants and shoves them down, only the button opened, with the boxers, lifting only so Will can push them off between them, opening his own pants while Will struggles with them. Hannibal settles between his legs and Will has a half wish to just get on with it, but enough brains to know that that would be an awesomely stupid idea. He is thoroughly surprised when Hannibal just paws at his own back and then shoves two fingers up into him, his body not used to this, but wanting, so wanting, still holding that gaze, arms gripping onto Hannibals shoulders now. Distantly he is aware of the fact that blood really isn't a good lubricant but then Hannibal drives ruthlessly into his prostate, taking all thought away. He feels those fingers stretch him roughly, the burn anchoring him, now three, the blood already drying, making him hiss through is teeth on every twist. Hannibals eyes are bottomless when he moves up and half straddles him.

"Suck."

Will can just open his mouth when Hannibal pushes in, his head held roughly and Will grabs Hannibals thigh and moans with it. He has never before felt the elation of being willingly used and he revels in it for a moment before he concentrates on getting Hannibal thoroughly wet. As soon as he is, Hannibal draws back, gripping Wills chin harshly, panting at his face and then he moves down and hooks his legs around his shoulders and pushes. It's too dry still, not stretched enough and Will snarls up at Hannibal and uses all the force he can gather and pulls his arms in, impales himself, making them both shout.  
Hannibal holds himself still for an instant and then pushes Will almost in half, left hand at his chin, right hand holding his leg, and Will can see the exact moment Hannibal truly lets go, the darkness a wild and deep pit in his eyes, the snap of his hips ruthless in intensity, using Will, worshipping Will, debauching Will, elevating Will, killing Will, resurrecting Will.  
Blood and sweat drip onto Will, blood and sweat are the coming from Will, the union more base than anything he has previously experienced. He comes almost absentmindedly, pleasure and pain mind numbing and all consuming, offering himself to the darkness that devours him so completely. Hannibal stops for a moment, gathering some of his come, tasting it, making Will twitch helplessly. He pulls out and manhandles Will onto his knees, before claiming him again. Because this is what this is, Will realizes foggily, his body jarred by thrusts, holding onto the couch gasping, they are both claiming the other, for good and for worse. Hannibal is driving into that spot again and does so with intention, Will over sensitive and close to tears when he feels his body respond torturously. Hannibal growls, and it notches Wills arousal back up a step, the fucking now almost slick with fresh blood, pain numbed in precisely doled out pleasure. Hannibal drapes himself over Wills still clothed back, making him take most of the weight, breath hot in his neck. His hips snap into that point still, short thrusts now, a hand coming up to his shoulder, holding him into the thrusts and the other below to jerk him off and Will is hoarse with screams, a very distant part of him hoping desperately that all the neighbours are at work now. And then Hannibal puts even more weight on his back, his chest now a heavy weight, hips only rolling now, hand on Wills dick holding tight just below the crown and Will realizes with a start that he is about to come again, that hand expertly staving off his orgasm.  
Hannibal keeps growling low key, nosing around at the back of his neck above the collar and Will knows what will happen in perfect clarity, the actual experience of the bite crystal clear in its intensity and awareness, Will pushing into it, wanting it, the pain heightened by the pull on his cock, his orgasm blinding. He dimly feels Hannibal pulse inside him and it is the most connected feeling he has ever had, and he sobs dry, brokenly.

Hannibal pulls him up, back onto his lap, still inside him and Will drops his head on Hannibals shoulder, panting, eyes slitted, sweaty and bloody, voice rough beyond measure, licking his lips, Hannibals arms holding him upright, hands framing his heart.

"We should be very happy the furniture is still covered."

Hannibal hums at him, still with a growling undertone, pulling out with a minute twitch of his hips, but keeping them kneeling there, in the light of day, licking at the back of Wills neck, making even more of a mess of the couch and their clothes. 

It's a felt eternity later when Hannibals left hand moves down Wills flank and carefully probes at Wills entrance, making him hiss, apparently satisfied that Will is not too torn when he pushes in with two fingers, making Will arch, unbelieving. Hannibal shushes him, careful but unrepentant, thorough and enjoying, checking and torturing in equal measure.

Hannibal pulls out and the world tilts around Will when he is swept up bridal style, too flabbergasted to do anything but hold on somehow when Hannibal carries him to the bathroom down the small hallway. 

"I -can- walk, you know..."

Hannibals eyes are still dark when he looks at him, and Will is set down carefully and ushered into the shower, Hannibal quiet and intense.  
The water is too cold at first, temperature changing, but Hannibal just cleans him in an almost meditative way, the soap neutral in scent, never taking both hands off, staying in Wills space as much as possible. Will just enjoys it, not needing his empathy cranked up to know the stunning feeling of acceptance can be overwhelming, feeling it more or less himself. When they are both clean Hannibal gets out first and holds out his hand, making Will shake his head at him fondly but taking it nonetheless.  
Hannibal dries them both off, lightly slapping Wills hands away when he tries to help and then proceeds to lightly untangle Wills curls with his fingers, Will raising an eyebrow at him but not objecting to the inefficiency. He is dragged across the hall naked by hand afterwards, making him snort and also realize that he does that an awful lot lately, the thought emotionally resonating on a warm note through him. The little room is dominated by a queen size bed which Will eyes dubiously, but Hannibal pushes the covers back, crowds him onto it and then pulls him in spooning without another word, and they are so close now, almost half of the bed is still free after all, skin still sticky in places, damp and too hot, Hannibals breath tickling, the covers somewhat musty and the light too bright. It's heavenly. There is something nagging at the back of Wills foggy and drowsy mind and he pushes it up until it can be verbalized.

"I forgot to close the doors again..."

Hannibal tightens his arms around him, his voice gravelly and rough, when he finally speaks.

"Do not worry. I would pity anyone who would try to get at us now."

Will smiles at that, possibilities flicking through his mind for an instant, visions of tableaus flitting by, and falls asleep, his mind at peace.


End file.
